


Please color in the lines

by 55_mageOheart_55



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/55_mageOheart_55/pseuds/55_mageOheart_55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She brightens every room with a smile, and her laugh is like a chorus of angels. She can destroy you in every sense of the word yet she chooses to piece you back together, and all you can do is stare. Your name is irrelevant and she has just plunged her hand down your throat and pulled out your heart. It doesn't look like she'll be giving it back anytime soon (but she can keep it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flower girl and angry boy

*She's blood, flesh, and bone  
No tucks or silicone*

She takes your breath away just by standing there. Raven hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, she is the fucking epitome of beauty.

*She's touch, smell, sight, taste and sound*

Her hands skillfully rearrange each flower, her dark skin contrasting against the mesh of blues, pinks, and purples. She's so calm and concentrated, humming along to songs playing in her head.

*But somehow I can't believe  
That anything should happen*

Your hands ball up in their spots jammed in your pockets. She brightens every room with a smile, and her laugh is like a chorus of angels. She can destroy you in every sense of the word yet she chooses to piece you back together, and all you can do is stare. Your name is irrelevant and she has just plunged her hand down your throat and pulled out your heart. It doesn't look like she'll be giving it back anytime soon (but she can keep it.) 

Actually, your name is sort of relevant, to some fucking extent. Your name is Karkat Vantas and you've fallen hopelessly head over heels for the one and only shit-fucking Jade Harley. You've talked to this chick, like, twice! And here you are watching her like a creep as she works with her flowers. You think she's noticed you on several occasions, yet here you are! Someone should crown you as king of Being A Huge Fucking Tool, because that's just what you are. She's all joy and sunshine, and you're a pasty 5'4 troll under the bridge (not literally.)

Whatever, you should get home. You have shit to do and she doesn't need some weirdo watching her from across the street all the time. You move on through small groups of people here and there and avoid the occasional coffee shop (you don't need John popping out at you again like the asshole he is) but other then that, your trip is fairly quiet.

your apartment building has 12 floors, and of course you live at the very goddamn top. Doesn't your asscrack landlord know that you trip down those godawful stairs at least twice a week? Whatever, fuck that guy. You make your way up to your room, and not to your surprise, your dickwad of a roommate didn't lock the door, it being left slightly ajar and completely open for someone to waltz in and steal your shit. Not like anyone would, seeing as the elevator is broken and anyone who doesn't live on this floor knows the trek up those stairs isn't worth it.

The room is drowned in darkness, and now you get to play another game of 'where the fuck is that light switch!' Once the lights are on, you are exposed to the mess of wires and scattered papers across every inch of the living room floor. Goddamnit you told Sollux to pick up this crap! Whatever, he's probably already locked himself in his room, you'll just make him clean it up tomorrow. You slip off your shoes and try to maneuver through the clutter as best as you can, and almost trip a bajillion times. You finally make it to your room, and from there it's just routine. You throw your bag into a corner of your room, slip off your jeans and sweater, move off any papers or art supplies from your bed, and hop into your nest of blankets and comforters. You pull your laptop onto your chest and type away at an overdue essay until sleep lures you into its greedy claws.

Goodnight world, I'm not excited to see you tomorrow  
*I know where I belong, and nothing's gonna happen*


	2. Maybe you will

There he goes again. He comes and sits on that bench almost every day. Sometimes he just sits there, other times he draws in his sketchbook. Oh what you would give to just take a peek in that thing. Art has always been so cool to you, almost as cool as gardening and physics. He's only ever walked into your shop once, but it just feels so natural to see him sitting there that if he left, you might be worried. His light auburn hair sticks up in every direction and he has an endless plethora of freckles covering every part of his face. He's one of those mysterious, hostile-looking people who you just *know* you wanna talk to. That's how you became friends with Dave! But it seems like if you approach him, he might be scared off, like a grumpy fawn in a big forest. Hehe, that was a silly simile!

Oh! You forgot to introduce yourself! Your name is Jade Harley, and ever since a week after you opened your little flower shop, Becquerel, this guy has been showing up at the bench across the street for who-knows-why, and you've become extremely curious! Who is he? How old is he? What does he draw in his sketch book? Why doesn't he ever actually come into the store??? You guess you'll just have to wait and find out!

The little bell that signals if someone walks in jingles as someone waltzes in in. It's late, who needs flowers at this hour? You never get many customers and you were just getting ready to close up shop. You look up from rearranging your forget-me-nots when you see a familiar face and understand why.

"Jake!" You wrap you arms around his waist and lift him about a foot into the air, the room filled with giggles and setting sunlight. He smells like adventure and Old Spice, like he always does when he comes home.

"Oh my gosh Jake how was your trip?" You squeal, setting him back on his feet. You're about an inch taller than him even though he's older by two years. He gets that twinkle in his eye like he's going to relate the story of the rise of Egypt to you because he was sitting on its throne, like he always does.

"Oh Jade, it was wondrous! The ruins went on forever and there were artifacts and little pieces of history hidden away through time found in every crack and crevice!" His voice is laced with excitement as he practically jumped around the room, waving his hands this way and that while he told you about his excavation trip in some forest in Africa. You take a glance at the colored rubber bands wrapped around all your fingers and remember to ask him something.

"Wait, Jake, how are you here? I was supposed to pick you up from the airport tomorrow!" Jake stops in his tracks at your question, and rubs the back of his neck like he's guilty of something. 

"Oh, well, we left early, and I wanted to surprise you, so I got Dirk to pick me up." Oh. Well that makes sense, I guess. Whatever, you haven't seen him in three months so you're both going to sit down and have a legendary movie marathon while he tells you all his new wonderful stories. You flip over the 'open' sign on the door to 'closed', lock it, turn off the lights, grab his hand, and drag him into the house connected to the back of the shop. He tells you about Africa, and you tell him about your flowers while Bec stays nestled comfortable between the two of you. When your both getting ready to hit the hay, you tell him about the mystery boy who sits on the bench across the street everyday, and he tells you to pursue him.

Maybe you will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo third chapter will definitely be longer, but mighht not be posted for a few days! Please enjoy this short piece of crap that gives you a little insight about Jade and Jake!


	3. Thorns on Roses and Forgotten Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's boys in cafes, girls in flower shops, roommates in bedrooms, and old friends in unexpected locations. There's a song stuck in your head, a dog across the road, and a puddle at your feet. Everything is going to go wrong and she's there to add something to it.  
> Karkats POV

_I swear to god I'm going to fight the sun._  
_Yup, I'm gonna fight that giant ball of burning light and gasses up in the sky because jesus fucking christ it's bright and it's Saturday morning, and it's fucking cold, and I forgot to shut the blinds last night, and I don't have classes until one o'clock so I'm gonna fight the sun. I'll lose, but I will gladly embrace that fiery death as payment to the world for the horrible shit-lord that I have been my entire life._  
_I'm also going to fight whoever the fuck it is that's is relentlessly texting me at seven in the morning, causing the repetitive, droning buzz of my phone on the nightstand, telling me 'hey fucknut! Pay attention to me! Answer your goddamn phone it's 7:15 and everyone you know personally is awake for some reason so answer yoUR GODDAMN PHONE ALREADY ASSHOLE! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!'_  
_Yup._

It can only be a number of people, really though. I'm not exactly a social butterfly like fucking Jonathan Eggshit or David Stroodlecake, I'm more like that disgusting crippled possum that was hit by a car but didn't quite die, so now its just going to peacefully drag its half-dead ass to a near by house so it can crawl under it and pass on to the void without anyone noticing, but all these other animals keep strolling up to him for some reason so now he's just left to die on the sidewalk because a rabbit or a bee or something wouldn't let him leave the goddamn conversation. Now some nice mom with her three year old son is gonna be strolling down the fucking sidewalk on a beautiful-ass day and then bam. Dead possum. Right on the sidewalk. That's me.

The only people that come to mind at an ungodly hour like seven o'clock is John, Dave, Nepeta, Terezi, Kanaya, or Kankri. So one of those fuckers is *still* texting me over and over and over again oh mY GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP. Looks like I accidentally chucked the phone somewhere in the vicinity of south, but I didn't hear the oh-so-common thump of technology hitting a wall in my room at high velocity, so it looks like I won't be meeting the smug asshole at the apple store today. Score none for me because now I've just made it harder to reach the damn phone. C'mon Karkat, your masochistic tendencies are showing.

As I drag my ass out of the safety of 8 billion blankets, I fail to notice the amount of papers and sketchbooks littered across my room, and end up stepping on several drawings before tripping over a book and now the floor is rushing up to meet me. Ah, so this is how I die, in the minefield of my own bedroom at fucking seven-something in the morning, just trying to reach my goddamn phone so I can tell whoever the fuck is texting me to piss off. Sollux probably won't notice for a few weeks, and by then I will have somewhat rotted into the floor and the ants probably still living under my dresser in the corner of the room will have eaten my eyeballs and it'll just be a lovely image for all involved. Well, might as well accept my fate now and go peacefully. Any regrets? Thousands. Any desire to fix said regrets? None whatsoever. Looks like I won't be coming back to this shitstorm on unfinished business. Goodbye cruel world, it wasn't nice knowing all of you.

My face meets the carpet hard and my nose squishes at an uncomfortable angle as the full 146 pounds of me hits the ground like a dead body, all energy having been deserted when I had accepted my fate a couple seconds ago. It probably takes me a full ten seconds for me to lift my head and see my phone within minimal reaching distance of my current location on the floor. Success for no fucking effort, just had to do something I'm already relatively good at. What is that? Being a clumsy piece of shit who doesn't know how to properly put one foot in front of the other before nine in the morning. I reach across the small space between me and my slightly banged up iPhone to finally reveal the unknown identity of the madman sent by Satan himself to never let me get more than five hours of sleep. Ah. I should have seen this coming. I did see this coming, he was indeed on my list of shit-sticks who would text me at this time of day. In fact, he was the first asshat on the list. You guessed it, John fucking Egbert, appropriately titled 'Bucktoothed Jackass' in my phone. What could he possibly want today?

'Hey Karat, u awake??'  
'ha who am i kidding u don't get up till 1230!'  
'u need 2 rlly work on ur sleepng habits'  
'but thats not the reason im txtng u!!'  
'theres a supr big surprise 4 u at the cafe so u need 2 get here supr supr soon!'  
'ur gonna b so surprised its gonna b gr8!!!  
'Karkat r u up yet? :B??'  
'karkat'  
'kaarkaaaaaaat'  
'kaaaaaaaaaarkaaaaaaaaaatttt'  
'r u seriously still asleep dude its like 7 already!!'  
'hey kitkat its Dave get ur ass outta bed already jfc'  
'kkkkkkaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkkkaaaaaaaaaattttttttttt plz wake up!!!!! ;;;-;;;'  
'k'  
'a'  
'e'  
'*r'  
'k'  
'a'  
't'  
'K A R K A T ! ! !'

And then he proceeds to stuff my inbox with shitty Nic Cage gifs and bad anime screen caps. Yeah, you know what? Fuck fighting the sun, I'm gonna fucking tear John a new asshole, maybe Dave too. This dead possum is about to drag his bloody ass all the way to a cutesy little coffee shop and tear the face off of a 5'5" bucktoothed shitbrain who's only redeeming qualities are his social skills and his well kept muscular figure. I may even attempt at taking down his 6 foot boyfriend, that's how fucking revved up I am.

\I'M UP HOLY SHIT  
\Ya know, this is just adding to the steadily growing pile of shit that proves that you are actually the biological child of a famous religious figure who goes by the name of Satan, sometimes Lucifer, you heard of him?  
\if i were to set you on fire, i bet you wouldn't even be the slightest bit bothered by it  
\why don't we try this hypothesis out now? because i am heavily considering murder already and its only 7:30, so might as well keep this runaway train rolling and see where it takes us  
'YAY ur awake!!! :DD'  
\fuck you john  
'aw i luv u 2 karkat!'  
'but seriously get ur butt 2 bunnycup already!!!'  
\what the fuck is so important that you had to wake me up at 7 on a saturday and risk your own life?  
'its a secret!!'  
\im fucking sharpening my knives at this very moment  
'karkat u don't even own a knife sharpenr!'  
\bullshit  
'nu uh! ive been 2 ur house, ive seen ur knife rack! there is a severe lack of any knife sharpenrs!  
\maybe i just hide them from nosy assholes like you, and are you seriously too lazy to type the last 'e' in 'sharpeners'??  
':P'  
\you disgust me  
'hurry up and come!!'  
\OKAY OKAY STOP FUCKING NAGGING ME  
':D'

I have lost this battle, but I live to fight the war or whatever the fuck the phrase is. Looks like I now get to spend time outside with people who care about me! Dear lord someone better hit me with a bus while I'm walking there. Or better yet, someone hit Bunnycup with a bus while everyone is still inside it, hopefully I'll be driving the fucking bus. I pull on a black and grey hoodie that says 'BOTHER THE PERSON BEHIND ME INSTEAD' which I've had for fuck knows how long, along with black skinny jeans and grey converse. Hah, no exciting colors for those assholes! Not like I really own many sweaters outside of the white, gray, and black range anyways so it doesn't affect much. As I open the door of my bedroom, I am reminded of the horror-fest that is the current state of my living room, and also reminded of my murderous intent. John can wait. This can't.

I've known Sollux since probably second grade, and he's *always* been like this. I really should've seen it coming, I should've just turned down his offer when he recommended splitting an apartment since we were going to the same damn college, but no, I was foolish and moved in with my mess of a "best friend". It's not like I'm a particularly clean person myself if the previous incidents were any indicator, but I'm nothing like Sollux fucking Captor. I don't even think he knows how to pronounce the word 'clean', and I'm still a little wary to step foot in his bedroom. This asshole and all his messes will be the death of me I swear on my mother's grave. That's what it's going to say on my tombstone, 'I SWORE SOLLUX'S MESSES WOULD BE THE DEATH OF ME AND LOOK WHERE I AM NOW' written in bold letters.

A few knocks on the closed door. No response. A few more. Nothing. Loud banging against that hard white surface of his door and still, nothing, nope, nada, zip, not a peep. Jiggling the door knob. It's locked. It's fucking locked. Its fucking. Locked. It takes every fiber of my being not to rip my hair out chunk by chunk as I pull at it in pure an utter frustration. I would gladly kick down his goddamn door but I also wouldn't, because that would hurt my foot and my landlord would probably kick me out of the building because I've already put two holes through the walls.

Keys, keys, where are my keys!? Bedroom, they're in the bedroom. I make my way there, snatch them off the dresser, and stomp back to the silent door. It fucking mocks me, my roommate is fucking mocking me, hiding behind this locked door because he probably knows exactly what I'm going to make him do, the tricky bastard. The key doesn't go in easy, no they never do, I have to jam it in with two tons of force and I know it's going to take a team of firefighters to pull the thing out but I could hardly give a shit about that right now because the door opens and I'm bombarded by the sounds of Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede and rapid fire typing on a keyboard. Jesus, his room is even worse than the living room, but I have to admit, that was expected.  
"JACKASS."  
He briefly looks up from the glowing screen and turns the music down just a bit, his attention immediately being sucked back into the void of his laptop.  
"Morning early bird." He mutters nonchalantly and I'm (not) sorry John but I'm not gonna be able to make it today because I'll be to busy being arrested for murder.  
"Jesus fucking christ Sollux didn't I ask you clean up yesterday!? Because unless someone else came in and covered our living room in useless crap, I'm pretty sure you once again neglected to even consider doing this used-to-be simple fucking task for me." I grind out, trying my best not to lunge at the scrawny prick and rip his arms out of their sockets.  
"C'mon KK, you thouldn't uthe the lordth name in vain, ithn't your father a preacher? I think he'd be dithappointed in thith new habit of yourth." he slurs out, his lisp seemingly worse, proving he probably didn't sleep last night.  
Fooled Around and Fell In Love by Elvin Bishop comes up.  
Ah yes, the perfect song to rip someones internal organs out to.  
"C'mon you lisping tool I don't have time to clean up your shitstorm out there, Mr. John Dipshit is making me meet him at Bunnycup right now and I'd prefer to arrive there with all my limbs facing the right direction. I already tripped once today, and I'd like to pass on a round two of that traumatic experience."  
"Nah go for round two, it'd be thatithfying."  
He chuckles.  
He fucking chuckles.  
Yup, nope, thats it. I step between wires and empty cup-ramen cups and candy wrappers before finally appearing in front of his bed piled high with papers and soda cans and technological doodads that I will never know how to use in my life, and snatch his glasses right off his smug fucking face.

A perk to knowing Sollux since second grade is knowing that without his thick-ass glasses, he's basically blind. Really can't see shit. He was one of those unfortunate kids who got their glasses in first grade and over the years their eyesight has only gotten progressively worse. The fact that he spends almost all of his time staring at screens is probably contributing somewhere in there. Basically what I'm saying is he has piss-poor horrible eyesight, so no glasses equals no computer because he won't be able to even see what's on the screen. He's up in two seconds but I'm already out the door and through the living room finally ending up on the couch because his legs are long and mine are not and look at that I tripped again. My face meets cushiony material with my hands still tightly wrapped around the oval glasses and now there's someones ass seated on my back, and even though Sollux is a walking stick, he's a tall walking stick and his 6'2" figure requires some unexpected weight to healthily accommodate his 9-foot long limbs.  
"KK give them back."  
"No."  
"KK."  
"Bite me, prick."  
"Maybe I will!"  
"Keep it int your pants, jackass."  
"You thtarted it."  
"WILL YOU FUCKING GET OFF OF ME!?"  
"WILL YOU GIVE ME BACK MY GLATHETH??"  
"NOT UNLESS YOU CLEAN THE DAMN ROOM! AND BY THE WAY, AS ALWAYS YOU SOUND RIDICULOUS SAYING THE WORD 'GLASSES'!"

No sooner does that sentence leave my mouth does a pillow immediately cover my entire face in plush darkness. If this asshole suffocates me and forces my soul to rise from the grave, then i swear to god nothing in his home will ever stay plugged in. The pillow remains there, 10 seconds, 30 seconds, 1 minute, it's getting hard to breathe and John is gonna be super fucking pissy when I get to Bunnycup (if I'm still alive) and jesus fucking christ SOLLUX LET ME BREATHE!!

He feels my insistent wriggling for air and finally relents, lifting the pillow and bringing me back to the world of the living. He knows I've never been good at holding my breath and the asshole fucking smirks at me as I glare daggers into his skull.  
"Please just clean the fucking living room, that's all I ask, it's not that hard."  
"Thure it ith, thereth a lot of thtuff in here."  
"OH GEEZ I WONDER WHY YOU LISPING MONSTER DICK!!"  
"Geez KK thatth a little harth... Five buckth, and my glatheth back."  
"FIVE BUCKS- I'M NOT PAYING TO DO SOMETHING YOU SHOULD'VE DONE TWO WEEKS AGO!!"  
"Then no deal, bro."  
I have to stuff my face into the couch cushions to keep the neighbors from hearing my frustrated screaming, and finally muster up the strength to push Sollux off my back. He lands on his knees with a soft thump and I throw his glasses in the vicinity of his direction as I stumble towards the door. At this point it's already 8:15 and I really can't waste anymore time trying to be the unstoppable force pushing against the immovable object. Looks like I'll be cleaning up Sollux's shit when i get home, *again*.

"I seriously need to get going, enjoy hacking into elementary school websites and replacing every other word with 'bees' and 'penis'." I growl over my shoulder as I shove one of my sketchbooks into my bag and sling it over my shoulder, opening the door and stepping out. He snickers at my crude remark and waves as I slam the door shut. That tool is lucky I didn't snap those panes of glass in half, but if I dwell on that too long I'll end up A) tripping down the damn stairs, and B) kicking John in the nuts when I see him.

Despite it now being sunny, it had rained all of last night, covering the ground in various puddles and wet footprints. I've always liked rain, but the aftermath can be a bit tedious, counting the multiple unfortunate occurrences where I've dropped some of my shit into a puddle or fell on the still-wet grass, making my clothes all damp and uncomfortable. The trek from my apartment to Bunnycup isn't far, but of course to get there I have to pass Becquerel and the angel humming behind the spring green walls. They open at the ass-crack of dawn, and I'm pretty sure she owns the place if I can trust anything John has told me, so of course she'll be there. I wonder what would happen if I bought some flowers... I'll probably kill them in a day, Sollux will tease me again, he'll probably even end up being allergic to them, but..

She'd talk to me, round cheeks, full lips, the way her nose scrunches up when she smiles really big. I really only know that because I'm a grade-a fucknut creep who watches her from the bench in front of the pizzeria, and for some damn reason she's always smiling. It's not like I haven't talked to her before, actually I've talked to her once, 3 months ago. I bought tulips just as an excuse to talk to her, but ended up throwing them away because Sollux kept sneezing with them in the house. She was cheery and sweet, but it was obligatory; the polite conversation a vendor makes to their customer while secretly begging them to get the hell out, but it was nice. I probably wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, because her smile filled the whole room and I had never seen her eyes up close before (they're bright green and shimmer like gemstones, I'll never forget them). We're severe opposites, our personalities would clash and she'd probably find me aggravating and hard to spend time around like everyone else. The only sliver of hope I can grasp at is the dumb phrase 'opposites attract' which is a totally bullshit metaphor comparing relationships to fucking magnets, so it's really not much to hope on. But I'll do it anyways, because my life is basically made up of me just balancing on needles of possibilities and seeing what happens.

I use my gray headphones to drown out the dull buzz of the world around me, step by step getting closer to my ultimate doom (also referred to as "friends"). Sunlight, footsteps, birds, cars, people, the white noise in the background of every setting, I put my back to these sounds and just let my mind wander to the listless lyrics of an odd song. Maybe it was a bad idea to wear a sweater, but at this point I couldn't give less of a fuck (well I mean, I probably could, I'm already starting to sweat) and Bunnycup is always kept 310 degrees colder than needed so I'll be fine.

_things to do yeah I've got them in my room_

_I've got it going on_

Not many people are out, but I can see some in buildings and stores. The pizzeria is open. The pet shop is not. The hair salon is open. The tattoo parlor is not. The flower shop is open, I'm getting close, pastel green has never looked so intimidating and c'mon Karat it's not too late to just continue being a fucking coward and cross the street.

 _the silence of the phone not_ _ringing's just a present thing_

_under my_

_my mind_

_hoo hoo hoo hoo_

I can see colors spilling from the porch onto the pavement, blues and pinks and yellows and greens, I can see a small sign hanging from the door which reads 'OPEN' in big, curly letters with hearts and flowers and smily faces. Obviously hand drawn. I'm starting to be able to make out the writing on the sales sign outside the window, a little person waving and saying something in a cutesy speech bubble. I can see figures through the glass.

_think of you yeah I've got such better things to do than you_

_and I don't notice hardly even at all_

_the aching expanse of space_

_aching radiating out_

_in circles around my house_

She's standing by the tulips, talking to a boy with a face like hers, her smile lights up the room better than her open windows and fluorescent lights. Animated faces and open postures, god what I would give to be on the receiving end of that conversation. She's turning to place a bundle of flowers away in a shelf. Her eyes wander out the window. She spots me. She stops.

Shit.

_hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo_

At this point I'm just about to be in front of the door and I can see her rushing towards it. Shit I fucked up I fucked up she's gonna tell me off for being a shitty creep and those pretty eyes are gonna be filled with fire and oh god oh god see Karat this is why you don't stare at people from a bench  _across the fucking street every day it's fucking creepy what kind of an asswipe tool are you didn't your parents ever tell you it's rude to stare shit she's probably gonna come out here and kick my ass jesus fucking christ I'm screwed._

I pick up the pace so as to avoid the garden goddesses' rage.

_things to do yeah well I've got them in my room_

_I've got it going on_

_and I could read 'til the end of the page_

_without looking for your name_

_start over at the top of the page_

_read it all again it's all the same_

I raise the volume on my music and pass the door into some shitty semblance of a safe zone right when I faintly hear the jingle of a bell as the shop door is violently thrown open and there she stands staring directly at the back my head.

_hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo_

"Hey!! Wait!" She shouts, a dull roar under the screaming of my usually soft song.

Sorry Jade, but no, I'm on a one-way trip to I'm-an-asshole-who's-gonna-avoid-getting-his-ass-kicked-today-ville and it doesn't seem like this driver wants to turn the bus around for a contradictory ass-kicking. I worry that she's gonna chase after me but after I've gotten at least eight blocks away I risk a glance over my shoulder. She's still staring at me, but it's less anger and more disappointment. At least, it seems that way from this distance.

I speed walk the rest of the way to Bunnycup.

_and I don't notice hardly even at all_

_the aching expanse of space_

_aching radiating out_

_in circles around my house_

Bunnycup is the kind of cafe where you're like 'oh so it's pretty small' and then you walk inside and you're just like 'oh well fuck that assumption', having tables and booths and a couple couches and just a lot of fucking leg room. It smells like recently cooked pastries, coffee, cinnamon, and flour and the only good thing about this place is the free wifi. John is busy sweeping the polished checker tile floor, it seems like Dave is just on his fucking phone, and I can make out Jane at the counter handing a cake to some redhead.

oh.

I'm gonna skin John alive.

The door opens with a jingle, immediately alerting John of my arrival and he immediately springs forward to wrap me in a bear hug

"John fucking Egtwerp I saw you two days ago." I growl from my place smushed against his chest

"Hahaha it took you long enough to get here!"

He just fucking giggles. I push him off and make my way over to the table where Dave has situated himself. He looks up from his phone and smirks.

"What's up with you, you look like you saw a ghost."

"Go shove it up your ass, Strider."

"Aw c'mon Kitkat, play nice." He chides, words dripping with mockery and an overused nickname.

"Oh shut up, and don't call me Kitkat!" I point an accusatory finger at his smug face and he just rolls his eyes (I think) and goes back to scrolling through his phone.

"C'mon Karkat, we brought happy people, be happy!"

John smiles brightly with that statement and I just glare at him.

"I don't see how  _she's_ any reason to get me up at the asscrack of dawn and make me drag myself all the way over to this shithole of an establishment. I could still be fucking asleep right now for christ sake, my classes don't start till 1 o'clock and I like so savor my goddamn beauty sleep."

"Karkat, 7 o'clock isn't that early, and it's not a shithole." John mumbles the last part, leaning against his broomstick and pouting like the inner baby he is.

At the mention of her existence, she turns around from the counter, same shit-eating grin and spindly arms and legs. It's been a while since I've seen her in anything other than a black suit, but her teal shirt covered in caution tape sure is tacky as ever.

"Well hello Karkles, long time no see!"

Well today is gonna be fun.

_hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo_

_hooooooooooo~_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey long time no see, audience! The song used here is In My Room by The Blow and thank you all for sticking around while I finished this god-awful chapter! I don't know when I'll update next, but hopefully soon! Love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I hope you guys liked this! The lyrics scattered around are from She's So High by Tal Bachman. I'll update whenever possible, and feedback is always great! Love ya cuties <3


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